Unseen Wounds
by SherinaSue
Summary: Neryssa struggles to find her place among the elves


Unseen Wounds Unseen wounds- Part One How was Neryssa supposed to fit into a society that didn't need her skills? The breeze here in this part of the forest was always cool, and yet her face still felt hot with anger and frustration. She knew she was good at harvesting and threshing wheat, and grinding it into flour; these elves had no fields or mills. She could sew a straight seam; these elves had embroiderers much more talented than she. She would not soon forget the disdainful looks she had received from the she-elves when she had tried to show them her needlework. She could spit a side of beef or mutton to a fine, juicy turn; these people seemed to subsist on fish, leaves, berries and a few wild mushrooms. She was gentle and patient with children; there hadn't been an elf-child in the Mirkwood for a few thousand years. All in all, she was feeling fairly useless. A sound in the glade behind her brought her around; Legolas was approaching. She ducked her head to avoid his questioning gaze. "Why are you frowning, Neryssa?" The words he had said to her in jest that day on the plain came back to haunt her now. What use could she be to the elves? Brendyl had found his place here, and he was happy enough. He worked hard at his battle training, from sun up til sun down every day. The Mirkwood elves seemed well pleased with him. The males were impressed with his enthusiasm and hard work, and the females found him interesting and fascinating. None had shown any particular affection for him, however. It was as if his mortality formed an invisible barrier between them. Not many an elf seemed to want to form a bond with such short-lived, transient creatures as men.  
Neryssa blinked as Legolas reached out one long, callused finger and wiped a tear from her cheek. She realized with a start that she had just poured out all her secrets to this quiet elf. Well, quiet when he was around her, anyway. When he was training with Brendyl or his friends, or singing the evening songs in his father's hall, he was loud enough.  
"Have you made no friend here, to share in these worries you bear?" She looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "Besides myself," he clarified. "I meant a friend among the she-elves."  
"No. They have offered no more than courtesy." She gave a small, watery smile."And clothes." Legolas gave her a thorough inspection as she pirouetted before him. He smiled; the elven gown did seem to suit her. She had already slimmed down in the month she had spent with the elves. And the deep green of the gown complimented her vivid coloring perfectly. Obviously, the dress had been fashioned just for her- she still had a very un-elvish figure. He found he was growing accustomed to her.  
It occurred to Neryssa that she had not seen much of Legolas these past few days. After he had brought she and her brother to meet his father, King Thranduil, he and a small party had gone out to track the creature Gollum. They had followed him southward, until his trail had ended too close to Mordor for comfort, even for the heartiest of elves. They had returned, sullen-faced and empty handed. Legolas voice cut into her thoughts. "I sought you out to take my leave of you." This news did NOT cheer her up in the least. Her one ally here among the elves, leaving?  
"But Legolas! You have only just returned a fortnight past!" and you are my only friend, she wanted to scream. "Why must you leave so soon?"  
Legolas gave her that overly patient look he used when trying to explain something that only elves seemed to understand. "I am going sent to Imladris...Rivendell,you call it, as an emissary of my people. There is to be a very important Council meeting at the house of Elrond. I will take three other elves with me. We must travel swiftly." He added this last, Neryssa knew, to stop her begging to go with him. He knew her well enough by now to know she would try. "I have already taken my leave of Brendyl. You are wise in your assessment of his skills. He will be a fine archer and swordsman some day."" She grimaced at him.  
"And I will be a fine what, "target stump"?" Legolas laid a hand on her shoulder. "Self- pity does not become you, Orc- tracker. You will find your place here; you must only keep looking. I have asked Nerathnil to...(He had better not say, "Keep an eye on you, Neryssa thought to herself,) "To help you adjust while I am gone. I know not when I will return." What he had said was beginning to sink in. She flushed red with anger.  
"Nerathnil?!? He hates me!" Legolas contained his smile, for she would not welcome it now. True, his boyhood friend held the newcomers in suspicion, but Legolas was certain Nerathnil did not hate her. Hate was an emotion most elves held in reserve for goblins and orcs. Perhaps contempt was a better word. His dark-haired friend might profess contempt for Neryssa, but Legolas knew him better than that. It was not contempt that drew Nerathnil to the pool every time Neryssa bathed there. Legolas had promised her he would stand guard so that she could continue her twice weekly swims. It had not escaped his notice that some small errand usually sent Nerathnil to seek him out during those times. The idea amused Legolas- to arrange for these two to share each other's company while he was away. He was curious as to what he would find when he returned- he could not be certain he wouldn't have to attend a double funeral!  
Nerathnil was just as unhappy with the arrangement as Neryssa was. The girl did not belong here. She was a nuisance, always underfoot. And she seemed determined to pollute Legolas's favorite pool with her constant bathing. Why could she not use the ewer and basin in her own chambers, as the elves did? The image of a rounded bottom diving under the surface flashed into his mind. Disgusting. Not at all like elven women. She was short as well, and loud. The art of blending in quietly with her surroundings, of living in harmony with nature, seemed lost on her. Nerathnil blew a stray hair out of his face and folded his arms over his chest. He was a healer- one of the most gifted in Mirkwood. What business had he here, wasting his time on this rock, while the girl splashed about behind him? Surely he was needed elsewhere! Legolas, with his endless war training, had needed his skills often. Nerathnil could not count the number of times he had sewn a cut, set a bone, or bound a rib for his friend. It was what he enjoyed doing- what he should be doing. Not playing nursemaid to some fuzzy headed female. The splashing had ended, he could hear her drying off and slipping into her shift. He knew that Legolas usually offered to braid her hair after she bathed. He was not about to offer such a service. Neryssa slipped into her shoes and stood behind the dark elf nervously. She really missed Legolas- this was the time he usually sat on the rock with her, talking and braiding her hair. But this- elf- she could almost feel the anger emanating from the back of him. Honestly! What had she ever done to Nerathnil? She trusted Legolas's judgment enough to know that Nerathnil would never hurt her, but he never spent more time with her than was absolutely necessary. It had only been four days since Legolas's departure, and she was already feeling lonely and exasperated. Nerathnil showed no signs of turning, even though she knew he realized she was dressed and waiting, so she timidly stepped around him, staring up at his solemn face. He was not so bad to look at, this elf. He was as dark as Legolas was fair, and his eyes were a deep shade of green, framed with thick, dark lashes. His straight black brows ended just short of his temples- his hair fashioned as Legolas's, in braids. He had a lean, strong jaw. In fact, she mused, she might have thought him handsome, if she had ever seen him smile. Too bad he was always in such a foul mood. She sighed and walked on ahead of him. Mirkwood was a vast forest, but after a month of bathing here in this pool, she knew her way back to the dwellings. Nerathnil followed her, saying nothing. Unseen wounds- part two  
  
Neryssa was determined to win Nerathnil over, or at the very least, have fun teasing him until he could no longer ignore her. When she next bathed at the pool, she went out of her way to splash him everytime she neared the bank. The sight of the dark haired elf, dripping wet from head to toe, might have been funny, had his frown not been so fierce. Neryssa refused to be daunted. She actually laughed at him. "You shouldn't mind, Nerathnil. After all, you are already a wet blanket." She could tell he did not understand her jest. "No fun, you are no fun at all." She crawled up on the bank, grinning to herself when he blushed furiously and spun around, She had purposely not told him she was coming out of the water just yet. "Oh come on, say something." When he did speak, it was a low growl through tightly clenched teeth.  
"I have nothing to say to unruly children." She lost a little of her smile then. Of course the elves thought of her as a child, given their advanced years, and she was behaving exactly like one now. She breathed a heavy sigh. This was not going at all well- she was going to have to tell Legolas, when he returned to her, that he had made a huge mistake. She was determined that she would find some way to make Nerathnil like her. She certainly had no other friend in this place, except Brendyl, her brother, and he had no time for her. She walked ahead of the dark, sullen elf, toward the dwellings. "Dark", she thought, was a fair description for him; he was dark in looks as well as mood, from what she could tell. Lost as she was in her thoughts, Neryssa's foot landed squarely in a patch of tiny white flowers. She was so upset she did not even notice, and would probably have thought them to be worthless wild flowers if she had. The fury on Nerathnil's face was frightening and sudden, like a bolt of lightning. "Foolish girl!" He ran forward and pushed her unceremoniously aside. "You are ruining my Eleanor plants! These are used to heal wounds! And when fermented, they go into the making of Piria- the life-water." Neryssa stammered and blushed to the roots of her hair. She hadn't meant to bruise his precious plants. She didn't know whether to kneel beside him and help him gather the ruined blossoms, or to simply leave. On impulse, she laid a hand on his shoulder. She felt him stiffen under her fingers.  
"I am truly sorry, Nerathnil. I didn't look where I was walking." When he said nothing, she continued, stammering nervously. "I, I know I am a trouble to you- I know you never wanted the task of watching over me." This last was almost a whisper.  
When Nerathnil finally calmed down and raised himself to his feet, she was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief, and then felt a pang of remorse that he had lost his temper with the girl. He was usually good at keeping his emotions in check, after all, as a healer, he could not show anger or impatience to one of his patients. Neryssa just seemed to bring his worst feelings to the surface. He would have to something about this disturbance in his life, but what? He had given Legolas his oath to protect this girl.  
  
If Neryssa had been thinking her heart could not sink any lower, she soon discovered she was mistaken. Upset that her apology had fallen on deaf ears, she had run straight to the clearing where Brendyl trained. She had only just run out into the clearing when she heard Brendyl cry out in pain. Distracted, he had glanced up at her approach, and caught his opponent's blade squarely in his arm.  
"Brendyl!" A tall elf said in a stern voice as he rummaged in a nearby basket for cloth to bind the wound. "You must concentrate! Do not let anything distract you- not even an ill-timed female like your sister!" He shot her an angry glance. Neryssa felt as though the canopy overhead was caving in on her. She curbed the urge to run to her brother- after all, she had been the cause of his wound. She felt worse than useless then, she felt crushed to her very soul. She was just backing out of the clearing again when she came up hard against something – someone. She looked up into stormy green eyes. "Nerathnil! I am so glad you have come," Her relief at seeing him waned in the face of his somber expression. "Uh, my brother is injured- he needs your skills." He nodded once and brushed past her. At least someone was needed here, she thought. It certainly wasn't her. Neryssa passed several she-elves on her way back to her own sleeping quarters. She might as well had been invisible, for all the acknowledgment they gave her. Tears filled her eyes as she stumbled into her room. She might have thrown herself down on the bed and indulged in a good cry, had she not noticed the parchment rolled up on the table.  
It was from Legolas- apparently his companions had returned. Without him. It was written in the common tongue, so she could read it easily. Neryssa sat down hard on the edge of the bed, stunned, as the words washed over her. Legolas wasn't coming back. She scanned the words a second time, to be certain her eyes hadn't deceived her. He had joined his friend Strider, the wizard Gandalf, and six others. (Including a dwarf, which she could tell from the tone of his letter Legolas was none too happy about.) His mission would lead him far from Mirkwood. He had told her nothing more, except that he might be away for a year, or...the words "might never return" flashed through her mind before she pushed them aside. Through a veil of tears, Neryssa scanned the contents of her room, assessing what she might need for a journey. Nothing she saw belonged to her, not even the clothing on her back. With a sigh, she gathered up a small eating dagger and one of the elven cloaks and rolled them into a small pouch. If she were lucky, she could reach the storehouses of Lembas bread and be away before the elves left the King's hall, and their evening meal. They would be well into their wine and song before anyone noticed she was gone. Leaving a small note for Brendyl, she quietly slipped out into the night, torch in hand.  
  
Nerathnil sat back on his haunches and breathed a sigh of relief. The boy's arm was sewn and wrapped at last. He was currently resting in the training clearing on a small woven-leaf mat- he was still too pale and shaky to be allowed to walk back to the hut he shared with his sister. Nerathnil followed the torch-lit paths back to his own dwelling to clean the blood from his hands. He had to admit the boy had done well, and accepted none of the wine he had been offered, and yet the fear in his eyes had reminded Nerathnil how young Brendyl really was. Elves did not age quickly; he knew elves who looked this boy's age, and yet were hundreds of years old. In fact, he doubted many elves could even remember the age of sixteen- Brendyl's age. He shook his head in wonder- they had all been treating a mere babe as if he were already a man. It was not until Nerathnil had turned to change his tunic that he saw the missive roll on the table near his bed. He quickly scanned the parchment, learning of Legolas's mission, and his concern for the well being of Brendyl and Neryssa. Neryssa- his heart lurched in his chest. Had she also received such a missive? His conscience pained him as he remembered his harsh words to her when last they had spoken. And then Brendyl's accident- Alondril had admitted that he had also spoken harshly to her for interrupting the training. Brendyl had told him what had happened- the lad had chatted incessantly to keep his eyes from Nerathnil's stitching. He had spoken of the work he had done in the fields of his homeland, alongside his mother and Neryssa. There had been no other menfolk to help with the harvest. The more the boy spoke, the worse Nerathnil felt. He knew the other elves spoke unkindly of Neryssa's "laziness" and her lack of ability to fit into their way of life. He saw now that they had all done the girl a grave disservice. She had many skills and talents- but none that were of any use here in Mirkwood, where the elves neither planted, nor tilled the earth. He understood now the source of all her unhappiness and frustration. He should have seen...  
The forest was already darkening to a pitch-black void- Nerathnil took up one of the flame-red torches and made his way quickly to the girl's hut. It was as he had feared. There was no sign of her. A frisson of fear chased up the dark elf's spine. She was out there alone, somewhere in the Mirkwood. Even for the wood-elves, the deepest parts of the forest were places of danger and terror. No one dared venture out alone. He prayed that she had at least taken a torch- and that the crimson glow would not awaken the spiders.  
  
Unseen Wounds Part Three  
  
At first, anger and muttering to herself had distracted Neryssa from realizing her folly. Unfortunately, that only lasted about a quarter of an hour. Then all anger fled, leaving a rising panic in it's wake. She was beginning to suspect that she had taken the wrong direction. Not towards the outer edge of the forest, and the open plains of her homeland, but deeper into the heart of the forest instead. She raised her torch higher in an effort to peer into the darkness. She could see little but thick undergrowth and brambles. Here and there, dark creatures scurried about, but she could not make out what they were. She realized belatedly that aside from that first day when she had accidentally stumbled across the pool, that she had never ventured into the Mirkwood without an elf guide. Even then, that had been in broad daylight- what little light filtered down through the dense canopy of leaves. She had spent her nights either within the King's safe, stone halls, or in her own well-lit hut. She was beginning to wish she were there now, and had stopped to reason out her leaving. Couldn't she have waited until daylight? Neryssa knew why she had not- she had hoped to avoid Nerathnil.. With that binding promise to Legolas hanging over his head, he would never have allowed her to leave. Even though he was probably quite happy about it at the moment, she muttered to herself. A vision sprang to mind, of flashing green eyes and the scowl he habitually wore around Neryssa. It was difficult to picture him happy; she had never seen him smile. She sighed deeply. There was nothing for it now but to continue on as straight a path as was possible. She was careful to avoid the tangled tree roots, although some of them seemed to shoot out and snag her foot even as she stepped aside. It was as if these trees were sentient beings- and they did not welcome her in their midst. Well, she had heard legends of elven magic before, why not vengeful trees? She shivered and wrapped her cloak tighter about her. Remembered tales of Mirkwood creatures flooded back with every step she took. So distracted was she now, and so faint the torch light, that she didn't notice the stream until she stumbled into it.  
The shock of being suddenly wet to the knees, and still fully clothed, was short lived. In place of the shock, a new dread dawned. Her feet were quite numb, even pinching them brought back no sensation. Neryssa fell back on the bank with a thud. But that was not the extent of it- she realized with a rising panic that the cold numbness was spreading slowly up her legs. She tried to struggle against the coldness sweeping upward, but it was not long before she fell back on the bank, fast asleep.  
When Neryssa came to, she felt cold and stiff. The last dregs of a dream, full of warmth and light, receded from her mind. She wished she could sink back into that warm, comforting sleep, but her hollow stomach kept her wide-awake. She had no way of knowing how long she had slept. She was still lying there trying to recall the fuzzy dream images and get her bearings, when she heard the voices. Instinctively she closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, feigning sleep, and listened as intently as she could. The voices were low, hissing and sibilant. She could tell they were moving closer, whatever "they" were. These were no clear, singing elven voices. It was all she could do not to leap to her feet and run when she caught their words. They were speaking in a tongue she understood all too well.  
"Ah! Only see here, what a plump and tasty morsel she is!"  
Another of the horrible voices joined in. "This is no scrawny elf girl! We shall all have enough for a feast!" At this, Neryssa at last dropped the pretense of sleep and leapt up, holding her blade out in front of her. The torch had long since gone out, but small shafts of daylight pierced through the trees, dimly illuminating the scene before her. Neryssa swallowed. Spiders! Enormous, hairy spiders- with long dropping fangs and glowing red eyes, slowly approached. She counted at least three of them. She fervently hoped no more were lurking in the deeper shadows. Oh, how she wished Brendyl were here now! Or even cranky old elf-boy himself. Thinking quickly, she reached down and slashed her long skirts off at the knees, freeing her to run. She was deciding what to do when the nearest of the three lunged toward her. Neryssa leapt to the side. She felt a thrill of hope when she heard a loud splash-as the spider tumbled into the enchanted stream. She only prayed the waters had the same effect on spiders as it had on her. She heard no more splashing, so maybe her luck had held out. The other two were advancing on her, hissing with fury.  
"You may have tricked one of us, Girl, but you won't fool us so easily!" Neryssa's heart beat so loudly in her chest she could not think. The glade was getting darker by the minute- soon she would not be able to see the spiders, but she had a sinking feeling that they would be able to see her. There was no time to think, plan; ...she looked wildly about her for another way to escape those dripping maws. She'd sooner fall on her own blade than be eaten alive, if it came to that. Glancing up, she saw that she had come up against a gigantic willow tree. She reached up, pulling a thin branch down. If only she could cut it with her dagger, at least she'd have a longer weapon. The branch trembled in her hand as she sawed at the leaves, and a loud roar, seeming to come from beneath her very feet, echoed in the forest around her. What new terror was this? She did not have time to wonder. The long, wispy fronds of the willow suddenly snaked around her, entwining her hands and arms. Neryssa uttered a sharp cry as her limp fingers let go of the elven blade. What was happening? Was the tree helping the spiders by holding their dinner captive for them? The more she kicked and fought, the tighter her bonds became. The branches dragged her backwards, off her feet, until her back came up flat against the tree trunk. In her panic, she almost forgot the hissing, spiders, until she heard their angry voices. "NO! The willow is taking her! Stop Her, Catch her ankles!" In the long hours that followed, Neryssa tried in vain to remember all that had happened next. Something bony and rough had caught her ankle, then a sharp, stinging pain in her leg; followed by the most incredible part of all- the tree had swallowed her whole. It was as if the trunk had opened wide momentarily, and then snapped shut- with her inside. At first she had struggled- both for room to breathe, and to move. It not taken long for Neryssa to realize that the more she wriggled the tighter the trunk squeezed in on her. By the time she had given up fighting, she was bound so tightly she could barely breathe. The smooth, hard insides of the tree pushed in on her lungs, and bound her arms limply to her sides. Oh, how her shin burned! She wished she could reach down and rub out the pain. She must have been bitten by one of the spiders, she reasoned. Even now the poison was slowly eking through her veins. Well, she laughed dryly, at the very least; she wouldn't be eaten alive. No, her death would be slow and agonizing- she would either die writhing from the poisonous venom, or suffocate in the trunk of some ancient tree. And any tiny movement brought more weight crushing in on her. Was it possible to writhe in agony, and not move at all? The opening was so tight now, her hollow laughter could not even echo back to her own ears. She lay as still as she could, her thoughts running back to the warm, comforting thoughts of Brendyl, of Legolas and the other elves, and yes,. Even.....Neryssa's last conscious thought was of Nerathnil's face, frowning in anger at her.  
  
Nerathnil was on the verge of giving up his search. He had brought the weapons-master Alondril with him, (as even in his concern, he had known better than to venture out alone in the Mirkwood at night.) Besides, as skilled as he knew he himself was with a sword, he was no expert bowman. If they did venture across any unsavory creatures, he wanted the best help available.  
They had been looking for a full three days and nights, taking very little time for sleep, when at last Alondril spoke up. "I see nothing here but spider tracks, Nerathnil. It makes my heart heavy indeed, to have to bear such news to young Brendyl, but..." The darker haired elf held up his hand.  
"Do not say it, Alondril. I have given our Prince my word. I just wish we could find some sign of her!" He walked along for a time in silence, scanning the wood carefully for imprints of shoes, strands of curly red hair, anything. Sunlight was again peeking down through the canopy when at last Alondril called out. There, hanging above them, suspended between two boughs, was a huge spider web. And woven into the center of it, a length of green velvet cloth. Nerathnil's throat tightened. A piece of Neryssa's gown. She had been here, then. Please, Please, he thought, please her be alive. It was not only his fervent prayer as a healer, or even as keeper of a sacred promise- if anything had happened to her, he would never forgive himself.  
"Nerathnil! Come, look!" He turned toward the older elf, who was pointing out a small dagger. It lay in the roots of an ancient willow. The bark seemed smooth and untouched, except near a lower knot in the trunk, just where the roots forked out, a small patch of green could be seen. Too green for any willow leaves, even newly budded ones. Both elves straightened and looked at one another solemnly. They were wood-elves, after all, and they both revered and feared these venerated beings. None who wished to live peaceably here in the forest ever sought to provoke a tree's devastating wrath. Whole villages could be razed with the upheaval of a single root, they knew. Trees had to be approached carefully, and with respect. Alondril cleared his throat and began an ancient song.  
"Oh Great Father Willow,  
Long your roots and deep,  
Desiring only quiet,  
Revering only sleep,  
Gladly would we share  
Your forest dark and deep  
No axe or fire shall mar  
Your bark within our keep."  
  
Nerathnil closed his eyes and took up the song, laying his hands gently on the trees smooth trunk. He knew no magic, save the secrets of healing, but he hoped the tree could sense that they meant it no harm. A deep rumbling voice answered them, in the old tongue.  
"What do the wood folk ask of me?"  
Nerathnil took a deep breath. He had heard tales of trees speaking to elves before, but even in his long years, had never heard one do so. "I ask that you give up the treasure you keep within your boughs, Great Willow. We have been seeking her these many nights." He could swear the tree actually laughed at him.  
"You mean the spider's morsel? Had you asked me yestereve, I would have let her go. She had been a terrible grief to me, wriggling like a worm in the wood. At last she lies still enough to give me peace." This last made Nerathnil's heart sink. Had they found her at last, only too learn they had been too late? He let go of the trunk with a heavy heart, sinking to the ground in front of the tree. He was so used to dealing with elves, who seldom died except in battle, that he had forgotten that Neryssa was all too mortal. He vaguely heard Alondril continuing to speak softly to the tree, coaxing it to open for him. At long last, there was a sudden resounding crack. Nerathnil barely had time to turn and look up when Neryssa'a silent form came hurtling out at him. He caught her in his arms and laid her down gently. She was breathing. Very shallowly, but the gentle rise and fall of her breast was still there. He said a silent prayer of Thanks to the God of his people. It did not take him long to find the ugly, red whelp from the spider's bite. He had no way of knowing how long she had suffered inside the tree. He supposed he should at least be grateful to the willow for saving her from the spiders. Ordering Alondril to gather the needed herbs from his pouch, he set to work. His friend knew better than to question- he only obeyed Nerathnil's commands. The girl was blessed, he thought to himself- she had the King of Mirkwood's own healer to help her.  
Neryssa awoke with an uncomfortable thud. It took her a moment to realize she was hanging upside down and her head was hitting someone's back. She was being carried like a sack of barley, hanging over someone's shoulder. Someone who was running very fast. Her legs felt numb,and she felt nothing except for the arm across her backside, holding her steady. "Wha????" She could hardly get enough breath to ask what was happening, so she raised up on her elbows. Big mistake. The spiders were pursuing her. And whoever had hold of her. Looking down, she saw long black hair. Well. So angry elf-boy had come at last. An arrow whizzed past her, straight into the round body of one of the spiders. It screamed miserably and dropped behind. The archer couldn't have been Nerathni;- his pace never even slowed. He must have brought company. Another arrow flew past her head, so she lowered it back down and twisted to peer under Nerathnil's raised arm. Oh, it was Brendyl's trainer, the one who had yelled at her the day before. Or, whenever that was. She couldn't sort out the time anymore; she was getting dizzier by the minute. Her head dropped back down with another limp bang. She never saw the other spider fall.  
  
Nerathnil stood and stretched from his cramped sitting position. He had slept in that same chair for the last two nights, keeping a constant watch over Neryssa. Despite Brendyl's offer to relieve him, he alone had kept the quiet vigil. He knew only he could help Neryssa if the poisons did not leave her body. Her fever was broken now, and the poultice on her leg freshly changed. There was little more he could do but wait. Absently, he sat down again and took her limp hand and laid it in his own, comparing her shorter fingers to his long, slender ones. Hers were practical, callused hands. These hands were used to doing their share of work. He found them intriguing, and lovely. Her hands were so unlike his own, and yet so like Neryssa herself. Warm, kindly, not elegant; no pretense. In his palm, her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly. He raised his head to look into confused green eyes. An intense feeling of relief washed over him- she would be well again soon. Neryssa made a small movement as if to stand, but Nerathnil rose and gently pressed her shoulders back down against the cushions. "Not yet, Neryssa. Your wound is healing very well, but you should not walk yet." His softly spoken words only seemed to add to her confusion. "But I was in a tree, and I couldn't breathe. I thought I was dying." She shuddered then, remembering.  
"Yes, your hem stuck in the tree trunk alerted us. Alondril spoke with the tree. He explained you hadn't meant to harm it with your knife, you only thought to fight off the spiders. The Willow released you then. Alondril and I brought you back here." He saw her eyes dart around the room, and then meet his once more. "This is my hut. I thought I could better treat you here, and allow your brother some rest." She furrowed her brows in question. "You cried out while you were feverish." She blushed then, wondering what she had said. His manner puzzled her. This was a side of him she had never seen before. This new tenderness seemed at odds with what she knew of Nerathnil. It occurred to her that she didn't really know him. She had known of course that he was a healer, but had never seen him at work Neryssa floated in and out of dreams for the next few days, as the spider's poison slowly worked it's way out of her system. She dreamt she was floating in the pool, strong hands supporting her and washing the sweat and filth of the sickbed out of her hair. There was singing too, deep and melodic, in a beautiful strange tongue she couldn't understand. There were wakeful periods too, when her leg itched and burned, and she would toss about on the narrow cot until Nerathnil came in pressed a cooling compress against her flaming skin. They hadn't spoken much, as she felt shy and unsure around him now. And, truth be told, she was still waiting for the lecture about traipsing off into the forest alone. Even she, stubborn as she was, could see the folly in it now. Nerathnil had already said he thought of her as an unruly child. How could he think otherwise now that she had proven him right? She sat up in bed and swung her legs over the side, determined to walk back to her own dwelling. She was anxious to see Brendyl again, and to be out of the dark elf's way. She was certain he must be more frustrated with her now than ever. She snorted. She-elves probably healed faster too- he must think her lazy. Feeling slightly dizzy, Neryssa lifted a hand to her head. She stopped suddenly, feeling the smotth pattern at he temple. Someone had braided her hair while she slept. **************************************************************************** *** . Neryssa had often wondered how Nerathnil and Legolas could be such good friends. In the weeks that followed her leaving, he became her friend too. He was much more patient with her now. Even though she was now back in her old hut with Brendyl, he came to visit often. They would walk together in the wood, Neryssa pointing to different things, and Nerathnil answering her in Elvish. She was beginning to rely on is presence as she had Legolas. If only the other elves accepted her as well.... A long finger reached down to brush her hair away from her face. "You are frowning, Neryssa. What troubles you? Your wound, does it pain you?" She halted in her walk and glanced up at him. His face was so near to her own, tiny flecks of gold stood out in his heavily lashed eyes. His breath was warm on her face. Neryssa suddenly forgot what she had been thinking of. "Frowning? No, I am fine, I...Look." She lifted the hem of her skirt just slightly. Aside from a small white scar, no sign remained of her ordeal with the spiders. She shivered a little when Nerathnil bent to examine the scar, his fingers lightly brushing the area. Nervously, she dropped the cloth back down. She felt short of breath, as if she had been running the plains with Legolas again. It had been easier when Nerathnil was distant with her- she had never trembled around him then. Now that he was standing here, staring at her, Neryssa couldn't breathe. When his eyes locked with hers, Neryssa did the only thing she could think to do. She turned and fled.  
  
Nerathnil slipped beneath the waters, letting it's currents and eddies lap at his body. He had used to find this a place to relax, either alone or with his favorite companion Legolas. He had not bathed here in a while- not since that girl had come. He sighed heavily. Even here alone, away from her, he was not truly away from her. Thoughts of her laughter, her tears, and lately, her awkward silences, drifted through his mind. Her leg had healed, and the poison been purged, but he knew her heart still ached. It had not escaped his notice that now she was returned, everyone but Brendyl treated her as worse than an outcast. They thought her actions foolhardy, almost risking them their best healer. She was more withdrawn than ever now. Except with him. The two of them seemed now to share some kind of bond. Even though her escape was not well-planned, he understood why she had gone, and how she grieved for her old life. She had not found a home with the elves, as had been his friend Legolas's desire. This had at first frustrated and infuriated him. But as he spent more time with her, he found that her ways were beginning to grow on him. She showed a quick aptitude for learning their elven tongue, this one. He was considering teaching her the healing arts as well... He continued to plan out in his mind how he would approach her, what he would say, how he would instruct her in the ways of elven healers. The sun was beginning to set, no longer visible above the heavy canopy of trees, when he finally pulled himself up on the bank. He spread himself out on the fragrant grass, as he had seen Neryssa do countless times, and just lay there, taking in the sensations. The grass felt cool and tickled his stomach. He hadn't taken the time to do this in many a long year- just to lay quietly with his thoughts and the woodland sounds around him. Since he had pledged himself to no one, Nerathnil had long ago accepted solitude as his lot. And that had never bothered him, until now. Now he found himself thinking of a dimpled mouth, turned up in a shy smile. He rolled to his back, finding he was not yet ready to rise and clothe himself. He closed his eyes and after a time, his mind returned to calmer thoughts...or would have. A small timid hand touched his flat stomach. His muscles tightened convulsively. Dark Green eyes flew open to meet apple green. She looked embarrassed and yet not- as if she were struggling to drum up courage. "It was you, wasn't it? You brought me here when I was ill...you sang to me, braided my hair for me." He sat up, his eyes showing his embarrassment , whether at her words, or his own nakedness, she could not tell. The fleeting brazenness was quickly leaving her. "Please, don't say anything, I just..." She interrupted herself by placing her lips firmly over his. This was no respectful, gentle elvish kiss. Her mouth was moving feverishly over his, her hands everywhere at once. Before Nerathnil could register the movement, she had pushed him back onto the grass and rolled atop him. Neryssa's skin was so warm to the touch it seemed to burn him, melting him into the fragrant grass.  
Neryssa was surprised at herself- she could not believe she was doing this. She had practically attacked him in her nervousness . . .she had been alone for so long she ached with it. All she knew was that once she had come upon his long, lean form lying in the grass, she could not help but touch him. Then, when his eyes had flown open, she found she was afraid to hear what he was going to say. She had blocked his words the only way she knew how. Please, she prayed silently, let me not have misread him, if he rejects me, I'll never be able to take it. Just then his hands came up to gently cup the back of her head, holding her lips against his. Neryssa gave a sigh of relief; he wanted this as much as she. Oh No, she thought, I am not like elven women, he will hate the way I look, I should stop... Nerathnil must have sensed her hesitation, and he rolled her over with her back on the damp grass. She had been ready for him- her own shift lay atop his clothing on the rock. She tried not to think of what she would have done if he had seen her nakedness and been disgusted with her. The Mirkwood she-elves were slender and small of form, she hoped the differences in her body intrigued hi, rather than disgusting him. He was certainly intriguing her , she thought. "Oh...my...." His mouth dipped down again to stop her cries, a curtain of long dark hair falling about her and sheltering her from the surrounding wood. Neryssa felt as if she had died, and come alive all at the same time.  
Much later, Nerathnil lay back in the cool grass. He knew he should be getting dressed- nightfall in the Mirkwood could be a treacherous event. All the elves would be gathered in the main hall by this time-he was sure they would be missed. Still he could not bring himself to move. How odd that he should feel vibrantly alive for the first time, he, Nerathnil, son of Nethranor, who had passed his thousandth birthday many winters ago. And yet only now could he feel his ribs vibrating with the beat of his heart, feel the flow of blood in his veins. He marveled at this new sensation. He was a healer- more than a mere medic or surgeon. He knew every facet of elf-kind. Every bone and sinew of his kinfolk; and yet just now he felt that he knew himself not at all. How had he not realized his spirit had lain sleeping for so long? The head on his chest stirred briefly. His hand stroked her untidy hair- he could not bring himself to wake her. A low rumble brought a grin to his lips. She snored. This girl did nothing as elves did- she was even noisy in repose She was still pressed against him, and with little or no effort he knew he could wake her again- but he would not. His own honor, seemingly absent these past hours, returned to sting his conscience. He had been asked of his lifelong friend to care for this girl, not make her his wife; for although she wasn't aware of it, according to the custom of his people they had just been wed. A distant horn stirred him from his reverie. Thranduil's guard- they might be searching for them even now. He gently nudged Neryssa awake. In the silent darkness, he held out her shift. He could not see the blood rushing to her face, yet he could feel the heat of it emanating from her. She was still awkward around him, even more so. He sensed she was waiting. For some word of censure, scolding, rejection...or praise. She would not be pleased to learn he had just bound her to himself for life, without asking her first. Not certain what he should say, Nerathnil reached out to take her hand, walking her back to the hall in companionable silence. As they entered the hall, Neryssa knew she was blushing furiously, and was glad when it seemed that no one had witnessed their return. Nerathnil let his hand slip from hers, placing it in the small of her back to guide her. It seemed he intended to catch the attention of King Thranduil, but to what purpose, Neryssa thought in rising panic. Would he declaim her publicly? Had she broken some ancient elven law, and shamed one of their chief healers? In her state of distress, it took her a moment to realize the king's attention was elsewhere needed. The entire hall was in an uproar. "Peace,.." the King began to speak, but could barely be heard above the din. "PEACE!" he shouted again. This time, every head turned in the direction of the huge oaken dais. "I have had a missive from my kin, Celeborn, of Caras Galadhon." Neryssa's elvish wasn't very good, so she was glad when Nerathnil leaned toward her ear, "A letter from the Lord of Lothlorien," he explained. Well, at least he was speaking to her now. He continued to translate the King's speech to her. "Legolas has passed through the wood, apparently they are on some errand to Mordor, a dreadful place, of deepest evil. He is still alive and well, but cannot come home until his mission is completed." Nerathnil paused, and Neryssa caught his eyes. They were suddenly full of sadness. "If this mission fails, all of Middle Earth will fall into ruin. We are instructed to prepare to leave our home here in Mirkwood." She was confused- she thought this wood was about the safest, well-guarded place in Middle-earth. "Leave? But where would you go? There, to Lothlorien?" He shook his head sadly. "As your own home was destroyed, leaving you no place to return to, so would all the elven kingdoms fall, should Sauron's evil prevail. No, we leave for the undying lands in the west. All the elven host are leaving Middle Earth very soon." Neryssa gasped. She had not realized the fate of their entire world rested on the success of Legolas's mission. "You will go with them?" She hated herself for asking- no soft words of love had been spoken between them, surely she betrayed her feelings for him now. Nerathnil glanced down at her face. Stark terror showed in her eyes. It was Nerathnil's nature to soothe his patients' fears- and yet what he had yet to tell her could cause even more pain. He searched for some comfort to give her. Apparently he didn't answer quickly enough to appease Neryssa. She burst into noisy tears and buried her face in his shoulder. Nerathnil shifted his feet uncomfortably. He was finding that he cared more for this girl's tears than he had thought he would. They were arrows straight into his soul. Looking surreptitiously around him to see if they were being watched, Nerathnil steered her behind one of the ceiling supports, a broad pillar of Walnut tree trunk. He would not embarrass her before the entire company. One had seen them, however. Nerathnil watched the red-haired youth approach their shadowed haven, his face bewildered. "What's wrong, is she ill again?" the elf raised a silent hand and met the boy's gaze. He silently shook his head, and tightened his hold on Neryssa. As he had hoped, the boy seemed to understand, his mouth rounding on a sudden, "Oh!" He turned and walked away, understanding that Nerathnil was hiding his sister until she could control herself again. She hadn't even been aware of her brother's approach. She seemed to be an endless torrent of tears, and instead of calming down, she was actually working herself up into a loud wail. Nerathnil froze; this was not going at all well. He decided to take a lesson from Neryssa, and lowered his lips to swallow her sobs. She hiccuped into his mouth and looked up, surprised at his action. He bent his head till his lips grazed her ear, his words for her alone. "I will not leave you, Neryssa. I intend to stay here, in Mirkwood until Legolas returns. Thranduil is not anxious to leave his son behind, but as King, he must lead his people to Valinor. He will honor my request to stay behind, for Legolas's sake." He raised her chin to look at her tear- stained face. "And you, Neryssa- would you stay also? I know not which path your brother will choose, but your choice is our own." Her choice was her own. Neryssa kept repeating those words to herself over the next months, as she watched the people and possessions of thousands of years of elf-kind slowly fading from the ancient forest. She felt a great sadness at their passing- as if all the good were being drained from Middle Earth. And yet,.there was good here too. Nerathnil moved beside her, watching the line of his kin disappear beyond the borders of the wood. His arms wrapped around her waist- she did not think he was even aware that he had moved closer to her. Their relationship was still new and uncertain- they tried to behave like mere friends in the company of other elves, and sought each other's touch only in the darkness. They were still awkward with one another, especially in the presence of Brendyl. Brendyl. At the thought of his name, Neryssa raised her eyes to see her brother standing solemnly at her side, his auburn head bent in sorrow. He would miss the many friends he had made among these elves, for he too had chosen to stay behind and fight whatever evil might arise. Neither she nor Nerathnil had yet told him that the three of them would not be alone for long. Even now she could feel the child moving within her. Although she had never borne a child before, she sensed that the one she carried was very different from babes of men. She remembered the women in her village, some of whom had vividly described the experience for curious young ears. Not one of them had said that they could feel the child stop moving and appear to listen attentively whenever his mother spoke to him. Or that he leapt whenever his father was near. And that was another curious thing- she knew this was a boy child. It was as if he had told her himself, while she slept one night. She had awakened, and known at once she was with child- a son. Nerathnil had also known- no surprising him with the news, as she had planned. He simply nodded and looked at her in wonder- as far as he knew this would be the first elven child born in this age. Not the first half-elven child, for even Elrond himself was half- elven. He had asked that she not tell anyone else- he had not wanted Thranduil to feel he must stay behind, or to force Nerathnil and Neryssa to go with him to Valinor. Or worse yet- take Neryssa and the child with the company and leave he and Brendyl behind to await Legolas's return. He did not think he could have borne this last fate. Although he had not yet spoken the words, Nerathnil knew the truth- his life and Neryssa's had been forever entwined.  
**************************************************************** Nerathnil listened intently to the raven perched on his palm. He was a messenger from Lothlorien. Haldir was leading a company of elves to Helm's Deep- the people of Rohan were trapped there, and a battle was eminent. The bird had been sent to ask for Mirkwood warriors to join in the battle. Nerathnil shook his head sadly. "I am the only elf left in Mirkwood, friend. And I am no warrior. However, I am a healer, and my skills will surely be needed. Fly now to Haldir and tell him all I have told you." He had gone then to find Brendyl, quietly explaining the situation. The boy's eyes held a grave expression, and wisdom beyond his years.  
"My village lay outside the lands of both Rohan and Gondor, and yet these men are still my people. I will go with you and lend my sword, to whatever end." The lad had turned away to ready his pack, when he suddenly turned back. His sister's secret was out now- he had seen her waist thickening of late. He had known it was Nerathnil's child, but he had not yet confronted the elf. "What of Neryssa? Helm's Deep will be no place for her." Nerathnil met the boy's eyes, and a look of understanding passed between them. "There are surely some villages left in the plain, some that escaped our own fate. She can stay there until...until you or I can return for her."  
Nerathnil nodded grimly. He was not looking forward to the task of telling Neryssa she would be left behind. He found her in her usual spot. He and Brendyl had worked hard to clear a little garden for her, and she usually spent hours there, kneeling in the freshly turned earth. None of them had known how long they would wait here, or whether Neryssa would ever see her precious seedlings bear fruit, but it gave her something to occupy her days. He found her there now, turning over the soil with her bare hands. He understood her love for growing things- it was just that he had never been the one to sow the seeds, as she loved to do. Her hair was pulled back and tied at the nape of her neck, except for one small auburn tendril. She blew the errant lock out of her eyes. Nerathnil leaned back against the trunk of a tree to watch her, as he often did. She was humming a song under her breath and had not heard him approach. He loved to watch her strong form hard at work. True, her condition was apparent now, but he had never seen her slowed or made ill by his child. She stood now to stretch and press a hand to her lower back, the only sign of discomfort she ever gave. They had spoken of the fate of their child. Neryssa was very worried about the fact that she, a woman, was going to raise an immortal elf-child. She had asked, how would he be raised? Who would care for him when she was gone? But she had never asked about her own future, or about Nerathnil's feelings for her. He sensed she was waiting for him to bring those things up. He knew he was a coward for not having dome so before now. With a deep breath, Nerathnil slipped quietly behind her, kneading the small of her back with his large hands. Neryssa sighed and leaned back against him.  
"Thank you. That feels wonderful." She turned toward him with laughter in her eyes, and then sobered when she saw his expression. "What is it? What has happened?" she asked, searching his face. "Haldir and what is left of the Lothlorien elves are making their way toward the fortress of Helm's Deep. Theoden, King of Rohan has led his people there for safety. An army of orcs traps them, and some new horror called "Uruk-Hai". A messenger was sent to the elven warriors of Mirkwood to join the battle." Neryssa frowned at him in confusion. "There are no elf warriors left in Mirkwood. Only you, me and Brendyl."  
"Yes, I am going as a healer, and Brendyl wishes to fight alongside his kinsmen. "He watched her face carefully as she took in this information, steeling himself for what he knew would come next.  
"And what of me? You plan to leave me here, alone in the Mirkwood?" With the spiders? she wanted to add. Nerathnil began to explain what he and Brendyl had planned, but stopped because Neryssa shook her head so hard it was making her dizzy. He reached out and caught her as she stumbled. He could feel the anger and panic emanating from her. He had known his Neryssa was no wilting flower to be left behind in times of danger.  
"Please let me go with you! All the women and children of Rohan are there as well, let their fate be mine!" When he shook his head again, Neryssa grasped his tunic in both hands. "I want to be with other women when my time comes."  
Nerathnil stared at her in consternation. "That is many months away yet! I will have you and my babe somewhere safe. Do not protest, Neryssa." He added quietly. "You are my..."  
"What? She interrupted, "Your wife? I am NOT your wife, that you may order me around." A pained expression crossed his handsome features at her sharp tone. Neryssa winced and laid her hand on his chest. "I'm sorry, it's just...I know I am mortal. I don't expect... It wouldn't be fair to you to ask you to watch me grow old and die." He lifted her face up to his. His eyes were lit with an intense green fire. "Hear me, Neryssa. I would gladly take you to wife; I will spend with you every moment of whatever time is granted to us. There are no high elves here to hear our vows, but nonetheless in Elvish custom, our joining was enough to make you my wife." He said this as a solemn vow. Neryssa was stunned by his words, but in her own mind, since no words had been said over them, she did not feel she was truly married. Her curious nature got the better of her. "Then what were you going to call me?"  
He smiled tenderly down at her. "My Heart."  
  
The journey to Helm's Deep, across the open plains, was a long and arduous one for Neryssa. She was six months gone with child, not yet cumbersome, but still uncomfortable. The walk was long, for the small company was on foot. Nerathnil owned no horse for them, and the elves had left none behind. She did her best to keep up the pace. Occasionally, when Neryssa's back felt as though it would snap in two, and she could no longer lift one foot to set in front of the other, Nerathnil would lift her effortlessly and carry her in his arms. She laid her head against him, his dark tresses tickling her face. In those times, her sleepy thoughts often turned to her brother. Poor lad. There was no one to carry him when he tired. Not that he would have asked. Brendyl was swiftly becoming a man; proud and strong. If the elf could keep up the grueling pace, then he would too. Her brother's proud face drifted in and out of her mind as she drifted off to sleep.  
  
Neryssa awoke and tapped Nerathnil on the shoulder. This was her signal to him to set her on her feet. She tried not to make him carry her any farther than he had to. As her set her down, she glanced up and realized they were not alone. As far as she could see, there were elves, purple cloaked and well armed. She, Nerathnil and Brendyl took up the rear of their number. Nerathnil and Brendyl were both armed as well, with swords and daggers, and Brendyl also carried a pack of food. But Neryssa carried nothing, and no weapons. She had protested; Nerathnil had told her his son was burden enough for her. She had scoffed at him. "Women of my village plow fields nine months gone! Please, let me help." He quelled her with a look.  
"A small garden I have allowed, Neryssa- but you will plow no field." He was deliberately missing her point, she knew, to avoid the issue at hand, but she said no more on the matter.  
  
The sky was darkening with rain clouds when at last the company arrived at Helm's Deep's stronghold. Haldir, the leader of the elven company, led the elves inside to take their place on the wall. When at last the three of them entered at the gate, Neryssa could see she was the only woman in sight. The others had already gathered to the safety of the caverns below. Children, however, she saw aplenty. Scared boys, as young as ten summers, dragging swords too heavy for them to hold aloft. Her heart leapt to her throat. The peril of their situation finally hit her, and she would have cried, if not for the voice that broke through the throng to her ears.  
Legolas! He was here, and yet alive! She ran forward and caught him halfway up the huge stone staircase. Without ceremony, she threw her arms around him and hugged him hard. He laughed and stepped back to hold her at arms length. His bright blue eyes swept down her rounded form, and then lit with a mischievous twinkle.  
"I see you and Nerathnil have not succeeded in slaying one another. Either you have made another friend among the elves, or he no longer hates you, then?"  
She laughed. "No, he doesn't hate me." Not that he had ever said he loved her, either, but she was certain it was not hate that stood between them. He had called her his heart after all. "Tis glad I am to see you again, Legolas, but I would it had been under different circumstances." His face sobered.  
"I wonder at Nerathnil bringing you and the child into this battle, as he gave me his promise to keep you safe." Neryssa averted her eyes from his serious gaze.  
"Do not fault him, Legolas. I would not allow him to leave me behind." Nerathnil had stepped forward to stand behind Neryssa. "I regret to inform you that you and I are all that is left of the woodelves. Your father has taken the Mirkwood host on to Valinor." Legolas nodded and then walked aside with Nerathnil.  
"You were wed before the elves departed?" Nerathnil met his friend's gaze. "Neryssa believes there was no wedding. Your father, King Thranduil knew nothing of our...alliance. I know you asked me to watch over Neryssa. I wanted you to know I did not dishonor my promise to you, bringing her here." Legolas clasped his friend's shoulder warmly. "I know it, friend. You kept your promise well. Neryssa is a headstrong girl. She does as she will." He smiled. "Tis truth I am glad to have you here. We will have need of healers this night. And the boy, his skills are improving?"  
"Yes, he will be a great help in battle. I did try to leave Neryssa behind, but she would have none of it." The two of them glanced across the parapet, to where Neryssa leaned down to speak to a young boy in a baggy mail jerkin. "She desired to share the fate of her people, whether good or ill. Neither Brendyl nor I could dissuade her."  
  
Nerathnil allowed Neryssa all the time he could on the wall, as he could see she wanted to speak to the children, but the hour of the battle was nearing. Legolas had already gone to arm himself for battle. Nerathnil approached Neryssa quietly, laying a hand on her shoulder. She raised her sad eyes to his and nodded. "I must take you below now, where you will be safe. I will find Brendyl and come down to you soon, before we are engaged in...before we have no more time." He knew she was apprehensive about the battle ahead, so he said no more about it. There was something else troubling him at the moment. Guiding her into the inner hall, Nerathnil paused in a relatively deserted hallway. He caught her waist to turn her to him. His thumbs grazing her belly. His son. All the more reason to return to her whole. "Neryssa, I..." it was difficult to form thought with her lips so near his own. He didn't try, satisfying his need for her touch before he went on. When at last he lifted his mouth from hers, he brought it near to her ear. "There are elves here who can hear our vows. I would,.. .I wish to have them said before I leave you. Would you have me, Neryssa?" He caught her close again, fearful of her answer. He had already lost so many he held dear, and the upcoming night might yet steal even more from him. He could not bear to hear her send him away now.  
She snuggled her face into his neck, trembling. After what seemed to Nerathnil an eternity, she at last raised her head. And nipped the tip of his ear with her teeth. His eyes were deadly serious, he was too nervous for joking just how. Her eyes softened, and she took pity on him. "Yes, My elf. I will be your wife." He smiled, no, grinned at hearing this. Taking her hand in his, he fairly ran to the outer wall to find his lifelong friend.  
On one of the lower corridors of the battlements, Nerathnil at last spotted his friend. The battle for Helm's Deep was near at hand, as the afternoon sunlight was waning in the west. Come nightfall, he knew his healing skills would be greatly called for. Just now, however, he had a different purpose in mind. Nerathnil approached his friend nervously. "Um, Legolas,..." The blonde elf looked up briefly from his task of carefully packing his arrows.  
"Yes, Nerathnil?"  
The dark haired elf cleared his throat again. "You are King Thranduil's son." That very obvious statement elicited a grin from Legolas. "And you are Nethranor's son." Nerathnil tried again. "You are my Prince." "What of it?" He was starting to enjoy watching Nerathnil shuffle his feet nervously. His keen eyes had already caught sight of Neryssa in a far corner of the battlement, watching them intently, her hands absently rubbing her stomach.  
"Well, "Nerathnil continued, "The other elves have all left Mirkwood for the Undying lands. You and I alone, of our people, are left behind." "So you have said." Legolas stood and gave his friend an amused look, fighting down his laughter. After letting him suffer for a few moments in silence, Legolas at last decided to have pity on him. "You wish for me to hear your vows?" He caught his friend's shoulder in an affectionate squeeze, as Nerathnil let out his breath in one long sigh. "Yes, we would. "  
He turned and motioned for Neryssa, and to Brendyl, who had just entered the doorway. She joined them, a shy smile on her face. Legolas reached out to take her hand, laying it in Nerathnil's. Neryssa could understand very little of the words he spoke over them, as they were in an even older form of Elvish than she knew. Nerathnil answered him solemnly in his deep, rich voice. Neryssa could not speak the words- she only knew to nod when Nerathnil squeezed her hand. When Legolas had finished speaking, the four stood for some moments in awkward silence. It was a strangely solemn occasion for Neryssa, whose experience of weddings had been boisterous banquets and throngs of well- wishers. She decided to break the quiet by stepping forward and kissing Legolas on the cheek. "I think Legolas approves." She said with a smile. Her brother snorted behind her.  
"'Course he approves, he performed the bloody ceremony!" Neryssa turned back and raised an eyebrow at her mannerless brother. "I was speaking of Legolas the younger, son of Nerathnil." She glanced in question at her new husband to see if he approved. He was grinning from ear to ear. The elder Legolas, however, was taken aback. His mouth dropped open. Apparently having a child named after him was a new and very high honor. "I am flattered, Lady Neryssa." His use of her new title reminded her of the day they had met. Her husband had a different reaction; he reached out and punched his friend playfully on the shoulder.  
  
"I am not sure that is a good name for the child- the elder Legolas is quite meddlesome at times."  
Neryssa laughed and hooked one arm around her brother's waist, and another about her husband's. "I owe you much for your meddling, Legolas. You have brought me much that I had lost, or never would have found."  
A small figure, standing just at the edge of their little group, caught her attention. He was clearing his throat and jumping up and down impatiently. Legolas stepped aside to make room for him.  
"My very good friend, Gimli son of Gloin" Neryssa glanced down at the dwarf in mild surprise. Very good friend? The letter she had received from Legolas, many months before, had bespoke animosity toward the dwarf. Obviously much had happened since then. She was still pondering on this when Legolas's introduction shook her from her reverie. "Nerathnil, of Mirkwood, and his wife, Lady Neryssa." Wife! That was the first time she had ever been addressed as such. She felt Nerathnil's long hand on the small of her back, lending her his support. Gimli, being almost two feet shorter than Neryssa, was staring straight at her rounded belly. He blushed as red as his beard and quickly removed his helmet. It was apparent to her that dwarves must hold expectant mothers in reverence. His gesture touched her, and she knelt. "Well met, friend Gimli. If you will be fighting beside my husband, brother, and Legolas, I shall not fear." His round face swelled with pride, and a twinkle lit his merry eyes.  
"So I shall, Lady. And we will all return safely to you, I swear it. I for one, would like to see Legolas GIMLI, son of Nerathnil, when he arrives." They all laughed at this, but later, when she was below, in the safety of the cave with the women and children, Neryssa played the scene over and over in her mind. It helped her to take her mind of the battles cries over head. If they all survived this night, she would gladly add Gimli's name to her son's. Waiting below was indeed difficult, but soon Neryssa found herself surrounded by children, all eager to hear about her life with the elves. One curly headed little lad sat down on a stone beside her, and reached out to pat her tummy. His mother, appalled at his actions, moved forward immediately. "Here now! That is no way to treat a stranger, Linley!" Neryssa shook her head and smiled at the nervous young mother.  
"No harm done. I like children." And they took her mind off what was happening above, she thought to herself. The little boy shouldered up even closer to her. "My friend said he saw you come in with the elves. You are friends with them?" He asked, wonder in his small voice. "Yes,a few of them. They were kind to me, after my village was destroyed." He nodded his little head wisely. "Will your baby be friends with the elves too?" Neryssa laughed at this.  
"Can you keep a secret.Linley?" AT his solemn nod, she continued. "My baby IS an elf!" As soon as she said it, Neryssa felt a bit of worry. Already several mouths had dropped into silent "O"s, and a few of the women nearby were whispering. Would she be an outcast here now too, as she had been in Mirkwood? She had hoped to make friends with some of these women, especially the midwives, but she knew most of the race of men were fearful and superstitious about elves.  
She need not have worried. Suddenly she was surrounded by a crowd of women and children, all firing off a hundred questions at her. What did elves eat? Did they do magic? Had they made that beautiful gown she was wearing? When they heard that she had actually been wed to an elf, that very afternoon, and in that very hall, there was no satisfying their curiosity. Neryssa found it kept her mind very busy finding answers to their questions. She used her voice, and her talent for keeping small children entertained, to keep the women and children around her from worrying. Even when a loud explosion sounded over head, and threatened to bring the cave roof crashing down on them, Neryssa went on. Panic and worry would not help them now.  
  
Neryssa sat on the large fallen tree trunk at the edge of the wood, watching her son chase butterflies. He was a tall boy, for only having seen four summers, but he was slightly built. She smiled as the afternoon sunlight glanced off his hair. And Legolas Gimli Brendyl, son of Nerathnil, affectionately called Brendolas by his Mother, was the only red- headed elf she had ever seen. He had neither his father's nor his mother's green eyes, though. His were a clear, sky blue, as her own mother's had been. And Brendyl's. Neryssa's smile faded at that thought, but she pushed it out of her mind, concentrating on the little boy instead. He was such a joy to her. And even though Neryssa had not met many elves, she knew even by their standards, he was a special child. Legolas could understand any language spoken to him, be it Elvish, Common Speech, bird speech, or even Gimli's garbled attempts to teach him Dwarvish. Neryssa didn't see how anyone could make out that guttural noise, but her son had simply nodded and done whatever it was Gimli had asked of him. He and Legolas had come to visit them often, helping Nerathnil train the lad in the ways of both healers and warriors. Neryssa had scoffed at the idea of a boy so young taking up arms, but the other three had given her such blank stares, she had given up the argument. She had insisted that he be allowed equal time with her in the garden in return. He had proved to be as gifted with growing things as he was with everything else, nursing even the sickliest of plants back to the peak of health. Nerathnil had laughed at that- Apparently his son was the best of both parents, he was a healer- for plants. She had been glad to see her husband smile, as he had been far too dismal of late. Oh, she pondered, he still enjoyed spending time with her, and with Legolas, but he was withdrawn too. She looked around at the deserted Wood-elf camp that was her home. Here, where Nerathnil had withdrawn from the worlds of both elves and men, after Helm's Deep. He still had not forgiven himself for her brother's death, Neryssa knew. He had knelt over Brendyl for hours, leaving the other wounded to other healers, but to no avail. The wounds were too numerous and too deep, even for so skilled a healer as he was. At last he had swept a hand over Brendyl's face, muttered a few words in Elvish, and met his wife's red- rimmed eyes. There was such a deep sadness in his own green depths that she had looked away from him. Nerathnil had never accepted the fact that he had let this mortal, who had had too short a time allotted to begin with, slip away from him. They shared their grief in silence, and then had asked permission to bury him among the fallen heroes. So many dead... Tears slipped silently down her cheeks. She looked up to see little Legolas standing before her. He ran a small, thin finger under her lashes, looking at her in question. "I was remembering your Uncle Brendyl. You looked so like him just now. I wish you could have met him." Legolas stared at his mother for a few more minutes, then knelt to point to the ground beside her. A dead bird lay there; it's sightless eyes staring upward. Neryssa swallowed. "Yes, son. He is dead, like the bird. He cannot come back to us." Legolas lightly smoothed the bird's feathers, and then made a fluttering motion with his hand. Neryssa knew he was trying to tell her something important. She had learned to read her son's hand signs well these last few years. For though the boy could understand anything said to him, he had never uttered a sound. Not even as a babe. When he was born, he had simply opened his eyes, and took a deep, shuddering breath, but he had not cried. Truth be told, she had only known he was hungry when he had rooted against her in her arms. She and Nerathnil both understood his motions well. She watched what he was doing now. He raised his arm, then stood, still fluttering his hand as high as he could reach. Then he raised his small face to the sky. Now he stood with both arms raised. His serious young eyes lowered to meet his mother's. Neryssa felt a small chill go through her as he approached where she sat. His fingers drifted down to rest on her shoulders. She cocked her head at him, trying to understand. Then she heard it. A tiny voice, in her head, clear as the sky above her. He is not gone, Mother. He is here, with you." Neryssa caught her son up in a shaky embrace. She loved the lad dearly, but sometimes he frightened her. Later, when Legolas lay curled up on his cot asleep, Neryssa leaned back against her husband in thought. She reached up and twirled a piece of his long ebony hair around her finger. "Has our son ever...spoken to you?" She could feel Nerathnil's frown against her head. "I've told you, Neryssa, I have examined him thoroughly, and although I can find no cause, he has never made any sound at all. Why do you ask me again?" She rolled over and kissed him lightly, to ease his frown. "I know that, Husband. I just, I think he spoke to me today. In my head." His eyebrows raised, and he was very silent for awhile. "I heard him clearly, but he had not spoken aloud, I am sure of it." Nerathnil thought about this. "I have heard of elves, usually very high elves, who can do this. Galadriel of Lorien is said to be one, although I have never met her. If this is so, he possesses a rare gift." He looked down at her; his eyes mirroring her own feelings of wonder, and a little dread. Their son was only four years, and yet he was quickly surpassing his parent's own skills. What would the future hold for him? "Nerathnil, my Love, I think it's time." He looked at her in question. "Time to take Legolas to live with other elves, elves who can teach him more than we can. Maybe we should make the journey on to Valinor, to Legolas's people." She had meant Legolas son of Thranduil, but even as she said it, she realized they were her son's people too. He hadn't known many elves in his short life, but he had known even fewer humans. He held her close against his heart, considering what this would mean for them. Perhaps he had hidden in this wood long enough. Soon Nerathnil realized he was alone with his thoughts. His wife snored lightly against his chest, while his son slept quietly at his feet. He would miss the solitude of their little forest glade, but he knew she was right. The boy could not stay hidden here forever. At dawn's first light, he would lead his family westward to his people. 


End file.
